Blooming buttercups flash-frozen,
In the belly of a mammoth beast.
A coronal mass ejection licks the sky.
All systems fry.
Stop. No traffic lights. Starvation nation.
“We weren’t expecting this.”
An incy-wincy megadensy black-hole,
Sucks existence away.
Then there is that,
That of which we cannot say.
At any moment a little meteor strike,
Like that man in Bangalore,
May melt me back down,
To prime star-dust,
Ready for some more.
Or bigger yet a crater-maker
Happened before, going to happen again.
The bus may skid.
The plane may explode.
The End of my road;
“Could happen, maybe”.
The world just goes crazy.
Is this a dagger or an empty hand?
An impact so big it shatters sand.
A polar-reversal that flips the sea.
Buttercup Buttercup allergy.